The Animist: Chapter Ten

Achoren

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Over the many years that Achoren had spent sailing, he had begun to think that nothing could surprise him. He had seen all manner of sea-beasts and ghostly ships. He had seen the seas of sand in the west and the ancient glaciers in the north.

Despite this, Achoren found himself in a state of mild shock when a young woman crawled aboard his ship. She heaved herself over the gunwale like a clumsy seal before falling to the deck. He couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at the unconscious woman. Who in their right mind would be out during a storm? Stranger yet, who would dare to climb aboard an unknown ship?

The young woman lay on the deck of his ship, soaked through with river water. Her wool sweater looked heavy with water and her linen dress clung to her skin. She had an array of bright, curly hair, the color of polished copper, and freckles that saddled her nose and cheeks.

The stranger was a Meiren, or at least that was what Achoren had concluded. She looked young, likely only a few years younger than himself. From the state of her worn leather boots and her simple clothing, she was likely nothing more than a peasant girl or the daughter of a fisherman.

Achoren gazed down at her, unsure of what to do with her. She had fallen unconscious almost immediately after climbing aboard. He couldn’t just leave her on the deck of his ship, but he wasn’t sure what he should do with her.

For a moment, Achoren contemplated tossing her back overboard. Whatever made her climb aboard his ship was surely nothing he wanted to be a part of. Tossing her back would have been the sensible thing to do. However, as he stood in the rain, watching the unfortunate mess of a woman sleep, he realized he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Instead, he picked up the woman and carried her below deck.

Unsure of where to put the unconscious woman, Achoren placed her on the rug in front of the woodstove. The little stove did a piss-poor job of heating the ship’s cabin, but he hardly cared. Typically, he didn’t bother to light it. It was pure coincidence that he had lit it earlier in the evening before the storm hit.

“You’re lucky,” he said to the sleeping woman. “If I were a smarter man, you’d be back in that river.”

Achoren turned and walked back out onto the deck. Rain greeted him immediately. The wind was so strong that the drops were falling horizontally.

“A storm from the north,” he remarked to himself. “Odd.”

There were never storms from the north. Then again, there were typically never any giant clouds of ash, either. Ever since Dria Thal had been released, the world felt as if it had been turned on its side.

Achoren couldn’t be sure that the storm was related to Dria Thal, but he assumed it was. The fool who had released the ancient magic would surely destroy the world. It was only a matter of time now.

Months ago, Achoren had predicted as much. With the new king of the mountains, destruction was on its way. It was all the more reason to head south. If the world were going to end, then he preferred to spend his last days in the warmth of an Akarelleian island.

Achoren stood at the helm of his ship, guiding the vessel southward. The night was darker than most, but the storm had begun to lighten up. Still, the rain persisted. He let it soak through his hair and clothing without a second thought. The cold reminded him of home. It was a bittersweet feeling that he tried not to think about for too long.

Thoughts of home were rare. There were too many other things that occupied Achoren’s mind. However, on occasion, he would feel a bite in the air or see a dusting of snow and think of the home he had left so many years ago. Often, his past felt more like a ghost than a real thing, lingering just out of view.

When morning came, Achoren felt more tired than he usually did. Once again, he had not slept. Instead, he had sailed through the night, thinking of the days to come and the strange woman who had crawled aboard. Unlike the sea, the Similyan took slightly more focus to navigate. It was a wide, deep river, but there were still rocky and narrow sections.

Sometime after the first sun rose, Achoren heard the sounds of the Meiren woman waking up. Footsteps echoed from the cabin as she ran out onto the deck of the ship. She stood stiffly, looking around with a dazed expression. At last, she turned around.

Her eyes landed on him, wide and confused. Her hair was dry and curlier than ever, adding to her frazzled expression.

“Good morning.” He didn’t want to scare the poor woman, but he had a few questions that needed answering.

“‘Morning,” she replied in a Riverland accent. “I...how did I get here?” If she was suspicious of him, she didn’t show it.

“You climbed aboard last night during that storm,” he explained as he took a step away from the helm and towards her. Achoren studied her for a moment before saying, “What were you doing in the water?”

She walked quickly to the side of the ship and gazed overboard. “I...I was with others...did you find anyone else?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t.”

Color drained from her face as she turned to face him.

Achoren took another step towards her. “Did your boat sink?”

“We were on a raft,” she explained, blinking away a flurry of tears. “And the storm came suddenly, and we hit a rock...I fell into the water, and I couldn’t find the raft again.”

Achoren nodded. “Where were you headed?”

“Dawnellis.”

“In a raft?” He raised an eyebrow. It was hard to believe anyone was foolish enough to journey from the Riverlands to the Akarelleian lands in a raft.

“It was all we had,” she swallowed hard and looked back at the water. “My brother, uncle, and I met a Bard and an Akarelleian woman. They needed to get to Dawnellis to warn them about the…” she trailed off as if she was about to spill a secret.

“Then I suppose you’re in luck. I’m headed to Dawnellis, myself.” The moment the words fell from his lips, he regretted them.

She can’t accompany me all that way, he reminded himself. Why in the name of the gods did I suggest she could?

“But the others…” Again, she was attempting to blink away moisture forming in her eyes.

“I doubt they’re dead,” he offered, albeit a bit rougher than he meant to. “Most likely the raft was just sent down a different route.”

“A different route?”

“The section of river back there breaks off into different smaller rivers. But they all lead to Dawnellis,” Achoren explained.

The young Meiren woman continued to watch the shoreline as if she could see something he couldn’t. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and asked, “Are they alright? The ones I was traveling with? Did you see them?”

Achoren furrowed his brow. Hadn’t she heard him? “I never saw anyone-”

“Not you,” she told him. “I was asking the trees. And you’re right...they took a different route. I was thrown off the raft right before a divide in the river.”

Achoren blinked. “You talk to the trees?”

“Mostly I just listen,” she explained. “My name is Maude Garner.” She reached out her hand in the Meiren greeting.

Achoren had gotten accustomed to Meiren traditions, but it didn’t mean he was any more comfortable with them. He took her hand, shook it, and stepped back as quickly as he could.

“Achoren,” he offered his name. He decided it was best to ignore the mention that she talked to trees.

“Like the star? I like that,” Maude flashed a smile.

Achoren was surprised that she knew the Akarelleian name for the polestar. The Meiren people were skilled in agriculture and iron crafting, but they were not navigators like the Akarelles.

“Sorry, I climbed aboard your ship,” she glanced at the ground, “Thanks for not tossing me overboard.”

Achoren shrugged, “I was feeling gracious.”

“Where is your crew?” Maude asked, looking around. “I’m no expert on ships, but a ship this size should have a decent-sized crew, right?”

Questions. Achoren hated questions. “I suppose most ships do,” he answered.

She assessed him for a long moment. Briefly, he wondered if she was able to see through the lies he covered himself in. “Do you use magic or something?” Maude asked at last.

She was smart. He didn’t like that either. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’re the first Tathian I’ve ever met. I didn’t realize your people were sailors, too.”

“Most of us aren’t,” Achoren replied, hoping that she wouldn’t pry too much more.

He knew that his heritage was obvious. There was little he could do to hide his eyes and horns.

Maude looked out at the river. Achoren wondered if she was talking to trees again.

“Where are you from?” he asked her.

“Henoble,” Maude replied. She leaned back against one of the ship’s rails and faced him.

Achoren couldn’t remember which of the small river towns was Henoble. Nevertheless, he nodded as if he knew of it. “And why would a Meiren peasant be traveling so far south? What do you want in Dawnellis?”

“Peasant?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Achoren could tell the word had insulted her, but he wasn’t sure why. She was a peasant, wasn’t she? It was obvious that she was far from having noble blood. So what else could she have been? Was it rude in Meiren culture to refer to someone as a peasant?

“I’m going to Dawnellis for an important reason,” she raised her chin. “But it’s not my place to discuss it. Why are you going there?”

“Work,” he replied without elaborating.

It seemed to be enough of an answer for Maude. She nodded but continued to watch him as he steered the ship down the river.

If she didn’t like being called a peasant, he wondered what Maude preferred to be called. Perhaps she was the daughter of a fisherman. Although that still did not explain why she would be heading to Dawnellis.

“I need to make sure my family knows I’m alright,” Maude spoke as she leaned back against the rail of the ship. The cold wind tugged at her curls.

“I can drop you at the nearest town if you like.” Archoren hoped she would agree to that. It was a mistake to let her know where he was headed and an even bigger mistake to allow her to remain onboard.

Maude appeared to weigh the option in her mind. “But I won’t know if they plan to stop at the next town. If they pass by, I won’t be able to find them…I’d rather just go all the way to Dawnellis with you. I…I can find them when I get there.”

“Fine.”

Maude was right. Her best option was to go all the way to Dawnellis. However, he had hoped she would choose otherwise.

Chapter Eleven